


Overlord Overload

by eternityforflesh



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: BDSM, Crack, LSOTW - AU, M/M, PWP, Senpai Notice Me, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2683892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternityforflesh/pseuds/eternityforflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spurned Overlord ultimately chose option two because he aspired to more than what Megatron intended for him: to act as his little pet warhead under the Decepticon Phase Six program.</p><p>There was a third option that his leader didn't offer him, the one that Overlord truly desired in the darkest corner of his spark: to simply remain the tyrant's little pet, basking in Megatron's intimate attentions for ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     Another day at Decepticon High Command found Megatron having heated words with his Second-in-Command, Starscream. Most of the mechs present simply muted their audials, having seen and heard plenty from their commanders over course of the war.

      “You old rusted fool,” Starscream shrieked. “You cannot possibly understand the complexity of my mind despite the ease with which I tear holes in your ridiculous plans!” The jet's wings trembled with fury.

     Megatron roared back. “I have much more loyal soldiers than you, Starscream! I have had enough of your disrespect and traitorous ways!” A black fist clenched at his side and those mechs that were watching, possibly out of some sort of grotesque amusement, prepared themselves for the impact.

     Said black fist slammed with great force into Starscream's canopy, the golden-yellow glass shattered and tinkled prettily as their Air Commander collapsed on his knees, blue hands flying up to cover his wound.

      “You will not attempt to correct me again, jet,” Megatron shouted, each word followed by a brutal kick to the fallen mech. Starscream howled and did his best to keep his wings out of the path of that massive foot.

     At that moment, Overlord entered the Command Center but he stopped as he saw his commanders, one mercilessly kicking the other, who lay dented and bleeding in a patch of broken glass. His face neutral, the Warrior Elite merely watched as a last savage kick was delivered to Starscream's mid-section.

     Megatron straightened up with a glare on his face, an open challenge to any who might attempt to defend his Second-in-Command or look too long at the scene. He swung around to find Overlord watching quietly.

      “Do you take issue with anything you see here, Overlord,” the warlord asked, his voice dangerous and low.

      “No, Lord Megatron. I am merely observing,” he replied evenly.

     The silver mech huffed in response and returned to his throne, pulling a datapad from subspace. Suddenly, two mech jumped from their seats with a wary look to Soundwave, who had watched all the proceedings as silently as ever from his usual place. They hurried to Starscream and lifted him up without so much as glance at their Commander and left the room, no doubt on a errand to the medical bay.

     Overlord finally moved back into action, pacing leisurely toward Megatron, a small smile on his lips. He stood for a moment, watching the tyrant before speaking.

      “My Lord Megatron. The objective was achieved, and the Autobot base has fallen to the Decepticons. I submit my report on the mission,” he said smoothly, bringing a datapad from subspace, which he held lightly in one hand.

     The warlord glanced briefly at him and motioned to Soundwave who came forward to retrieve the datapad Overlord had presented.

      “Remain on base, Overlord. New assignment forthcoming,” the visored mech intoned.

     His smile faltering, Overlord nodded to Soundwave, nodded to Megatron who failed to see it, and left the Command Center.

     A few days of near-peace followed as Starscream recuperated and avoided Megatron as much as he was able. Overlord was not seen much outside the mess hall when he picked up his daily energon rations. The triple-changer did not speak with the grunts in his Lord's army nor did he even acknowledge them most of the time. Whispers went around and mechs settled on the tall blue officer being as conceited as their Air Commander. Overlord did have a flying alt-mode after all.

     On the day that Starscream chose to reassert his superiority over his Megatron and received another round of insults, punches and kicks, Overlord was present. Again, he merely watched, his face neutral. After the jet was taken to the medical bay, he also left and returned to his quarters.

      Over the following month, Overlord witnessed every public beating Starscream earned from the warlord. Mechs were either too busy watching the nearly ritual abuse or too busy pointedly ignoring it to notice the triple-changer watching from a distance. One mech noticed and, of course, _he_ would.

     As Chief Communications Officer, Soundwave observed everything happening in the Decepticon base. If he wasn't physically present, his intricate and immense security system always supplied him with the footage he wanted. His Cassetticons were also master spies and he deployed them often to root out problems among the ranks of the army.

     Soundwave noticed Overlord then just as he had every time previous. Concerned that the blue mech had some nefarious interest in Megatron, despite the Achilles virus installed by Shockwave, or even Starscream – as much as they were rivals, Soundwave was loyal to the cause and Starscream was part of the cause – the Third-in-Command made notations to track Overlord's movements in the base from that point forward and research past data.

     The next week, Overlord was again given a mission in a distant sector. Soundwave used this time to compile his data and solve this mystery. He reviewed security footage and his tracking data. The information presented was incredibly boring – Overlord refueled every morning, returned to his quarters in the officers' wing until he seemingly randomly exited and went to wherever Megatron was thrashing his Second-in-Command – but Soundwave rarely found anything boring. Especially when solving problems required a little extra cunning and research.

     After Megatron dispatched Starscream, Overlord would leave the area and return to his quarters. Hitting the pause control, Soundwave stared at the image of Overlord's door. He needed to know what interest the officer had in those altercations.

     The communications officer punched the play button and watched the screen. After a few minutes of nothing but a stationary door on-screen, he noticed small blips in the sound monitor levels in the small window in the corner of the screen. He replayed the footage again with the volume increased. The blips were larger indicating a noise of some kind but he still could not hear it. He sent a command that increased the sensitivity to that camera's audio settings.

     Dialing up the volume on the next replay, he finally caught the noise. He plugged a cable from his wrist into the port in the monitor and replayed the video with his internal audio sensors adjusted to one hundred percent. His visor flashed when he clearly heard the unmistakable sound of a mech overloading. It was a wordless vocalization but the deep, rich voice was indeed belonged to Overlord.

     Quickly pulling up all the footage from after Overlord's return to his quarters, Soundwave played each clip in order and there, at one hundred percent volume, the navy mech heard the triple-changer overloading again and again. He immediately transferred all the video clips into a folder within his security system's data structure and encrypted the access to his and Megatron's dedicated passcodes. He would wait until Overlord's return to perform his final piece of research.

     Said tall blue mech returned within the week, an efficiently typed report on a datapad delivered to Soundwave before Overlord returned to his previous wait-and-see routine.

     Soundwave was ready when Starscream shoved back his chair at an officers meeting and stood, vocalizer primed to it's highest pitch, indignation roiling in his spark. As his commanders traded insults, the telepath reached gently into Overlord's processor and didn't have to probe very far to find the root of the mech's intense interest in Megatron's violence against their Air Commander.

      Overlord wanted Megatron. He wanted that cruel and brutal attention aimed at his own plating. Seeing through the officer's optics, Soundwave viewed the scene unfolding before them all but with Overlord substituting his frame for Starscream's. The slaps, the punches, the kicks, but especially the harsh words, left his spark and valve aching. However, the abuse was mostly meaningless; it was Megatron's attention that he craved: to be the sole focus of the former gladiator and to be used by him.

     After millions of years in his Lord's army, nothing surprised Soundwave and he was still not surprised that one of the most ruthlessly sadistic mechs in that army craved nothing more than ruthlessly sadistic humiliation at Megatron's discretion.

     Stranger things had happened, like the fact that Megatron and Starscream had been berthmates for thousands of years. They slagged each other in public and fragged each other in private. Soundwave didn't care why as long as they were discreet and didn't let it affect their commands. Obviously, it didn't as Starscream was as much of an obnoxious, disrespectful glitch as he had ever been.

     Soundwave also didn't care what Overlord wanted as long as it wasn't Megatron or Starscream's deactivations. He thought might even be interesting to pull memory files from the officer's processor if Overlord ended up getting his darkest wishes fulfilled. The navy mech decided to inform Megatron of this situation when the meeting was over.

     A hour later, Megatron waited as his remaining officers left the war room. His optics narrowed as he studied them to see if they flinched when stepping through Starscream's now-dry energon. Not one did so and he rumbled in approval. He then turned to his Third-in-Command for a private intelligence report.

     Soundwave gave his brief report, highlighting a few key points needing Megatron's approval and then sat silent as his Lord processed the information.

      “Good. Very good,” the tyrant said. “Proceed as you suggested. The Autobot outpost at LD-6 will not hold long much longer.” He smiled a vicious smile. “Dismissed.”

     When Soundwave remained in his seat, Megatron arched a brow at him. “Something more?”

      “Affirmative, Lord Megatron. Regarding Overlord.”

      “So, he has finally decided he wants to advance in my army,” Megatron mused.

      “Negative. Envious of Starscream's punishment,” the Third-in-Command explained.

      “That screechy glitch earns his punishment from myself only.” The tyrant's plating actively bristled.

      “Overlord desires humiliation from Lord Megatron.”

     If he was capable of laughing at his superior, Soundwave would have at least chuckled at the confused look on Megatron's face. But he was a very dutiful and loyal officer, so he explained further.

      “Overlord overloads himself after watching Starscream punished by Lord Megatron.”

      “Show me your evidence,” the warlord demanded, positioning himself closer to Soundwave's dedicated monitor. The communications officer accessed the encrypted folder containing his evidence. He had processed the audio feed for detection by external audials the day before and now they were audible via the monitor's speakers. He pressed play on the sequence of clips he had arranged, showing Overlord watching Megatron slag Starscream with the time-stamps highlighted and then the clips of Overlord's door with the time-stamps also highlighted.

     Megatron watched several clips before sitting back and motioning for Soundwave to pause them. His scarlet optics dimmed as he processed. Then he spoke.

      “This doesn't mean much. I'm sure many of my soldiers enjoy watching that glitch get pummeled for his constant and flagrant insubordination.”

      “Soundwave initated probe during today's meeting. Results conclusive. Overlord prefers humiliation from Lord Megatron.”

      “Tell me why you decided I needed this information.”

      “Leverage against Overlord.”

      “Leverage is always good. Fair enough. Dismissed...unless you know of another soldier in my army that has a sick fetish involving me.”

      “Negative, Lord Megatron,” the navy mech replied, standing to take his leave.

     It did not escape Megatron's notice that Soundwave left the video compilation open and still paused on his monitor. If Megatron didn't trust Soundwave with his life, he might have been annoyed. Instead, he pulled his chair closer and pressed play.

     Most of a month passed with all things as usual in the Decepticon base. Megatron and Starscream argued, Starscream went to medbay for repairs, soldiers came and went on missions including Overlord. But now Megatron caught himself glancing at the blue officer between the blows he crashed upon Starscream's frame. Soundwave had been right which was also the usual.

     If he was on base, Overlord never failed to show up right as the Air Commander hit the floor, plating dented and energon leaking, and left as soon as Starscream had been taken away.

     After an especially brutal – and well-deserved – beating that had Starscream spending the night in the medbay, Megatron sat in his quarters, more than a little frustrated. He and the jet hasn't shared a berth in a few weeks and as per Hook's estimate, Starscream would be ready and able to depart on a campaign the next day. It would be another few weeks before Megatron got to touch his Second-in-Command again.

     The tyrant grumbled to himself. If the glitch had kept his mouth shut for just one day, they could be halfway through their interface session at that very moment. Megatron huffed a sigh from his vents. And then an idea sparked in his mind.

     He turned to the console on his desk and pulled up the encrypted folder Soundwave had shown him weeks before. Accessing it with his dedicated passcode, he cued the video clips and sat back to watch with the audio feed at one hundred percent.

     A hidden Overlord overloaded for the fifth time and Megatron made up his processor.

     Switching the console off, he opened a secure comm channel with a wicked grin on his face.

     ::Lord Megatron:: a smooth rich voice answered.

     ::Overlord, come to my quarters immediately::

     ::May I enquire as to the nature of this meeting?::

      ::You have ten minutes:: Megatron closed the comm channel and allowed himself a small laugh. Time to test Soundwave's theory.

     Within the time alloted, Megatron's door chimed and he transmitted the silent command to open it. The tall blue officer strode through the doorway as cocky and confident as ever. Megatron had a moment of doubt and then mentally shrugged. If this failed, he could dispatch Overlord to an unpleasant and very distant outpost on indefinite duty.

      “Lord Megatron, I am here as you requested,” Overlord said, a small smirk twisting his lips.

     The tyrant felt more at ease seeing that expression as it reminded him of his currently recuperating Second-in-Command. He sat silently and appraised his officer. Even if Overlord hadn't been upgraded into a Warrior Elite at Megatron's expense, he would have still have been an exceptional soldier with a strong, solid frame.

     It was a nice frame, but no frame compared to Starscream's Seeker build. The voice was nice, too, deeper than his own and much less harsh. And those obscenely full lips. Megatron might enjoy this after all.

     The Decepticon Supreme Commander stood and approached his officer who remained motionless. He circled Overlord slowly, coming to a stop just behind his left shoulder. Leaning close to the triple-changer's audial, Megatron growled, “You came yet you questioned my command.”

     Overlord's twitch was barely noticeable, but being centimeters from him, Megatron caught it and his wicked grin returned.

      “It is late in the night-cycle,” Overlord replied without a trace of emotion.

      “That makes no difference. I am the leader of this army. You are to obey me without question.” His snarl received another barely-there twitch. “And you walked too slowly. Your quarters are seven-point-three minutes from here and you required almost an entire ten to show yourself. I will not tolerate officers who dawdle on my time.”

     Using his ever-sharp gladiator reflexes and crushing strength, the warlord swept Overlord's leg out from under him and shoved his shoulder down. The officer crashed to his knees and would have kept tumbling but for Megatron's hand keeping him upright.

     Overlord's blue frame went rigid and still, and Megatron prepared his battle codes in case the officer attempted something unwise. A minute passed with no change, so Megatron continued.

      “You have displeased me which is unfortunate as you are a decent soldier. A fitting punishment is warranted.” The powerful frame beneath Megatron's hand shivered.

     Further encouraged, the silver mech moved to face his kneeling officer, shifting his hand from shoulder armor to cup Overlord's chin. Tilting his head up, Megatron felt mildly surprised to see the large optics over-bright with eagerness and need. He laughed silently to himself while keeping his face stern.

      “You're quite arrogant to waste my time as you have. You present our illustrious Air Commander and his attitude with significant competition in that respect. At least he presents himself in a timely manner appreciative of my attention and position as leader of the Decepticon army.” Moving his focus from the red optics to the sculpted lips nearly quivering in antipication, Megatron brushed his thumb across them. They parted slightly and he repeated the movement.

      “You require a punishment to remind you that you are merely a soldier, not a commander, and that you serve me above and beyond all others.” He growled as he slipped his thumb between those waiting lips.

     Overlord's glossa caressed his thumb, then his lips closed and he suckled the finger, his optics on Megatron's. The silver mech relaxed as those lips pursed around his finger and the mouth imitated other more intimate parts. Sufficiently aroused after a minute, Megatron was ready to get his much-needed overload. His interface panel snapped back and his spike pressurized quickly.

     The large red optics seemed to widen even further as he glanced down at Megatron's spike. Pulling his finger from Overlord's mouth, the tyrant stroked himself a few times and then stepped closer to press the tip of his spike against his officer's lips.

      “You may prove your worth now,” Megatron said in a bored voice. The triple-changer eagerly accepted the spike and began working his mouth over it. The warlord bit back a groan as his cooling fans activated.

     Wanting to test his officer's limits, Megatron grabbed the back of Overlord's helm and pulled him further down on his spike. The soft lips and mouth yielded easily and Megatron growled. He pulled back and thrust forward. Starscream never let him do this so he was going to take full advantage of the opportunity kneeling willingly at his feet.

     Megatron kept a steady pace, pulling Overlord's helm to meet his thrusts. The blue mech's mouth was slick with lubricant and it dribbled from his lips. The tyrant watched it drip down Overlord's chin and onto his chest armor. It was almost too exciting so he slowed down and lengthened his strokes until his hips were nearly flush with Overlord's lips. Then he did allow himself a small moan.

      “You are meant to serve, soldier. On the battlefield and on your knees as I command,” the silver mech ground out as he held Overlord still, his spike pressing against the back of his officer's intake.

     Megatron was so aroused, even the hot air gusting from Overlord's vents onto his legs felt like a physical touch. He cleared his mind for a moment to revel in having a Warrior Elite on his knees, docile and pliant, mouth filled with his spike. The idea would never have crossed his mind in a million years.

     A bit more relaxed, Megatron began moving again. He was still torn between drawing his overload out even further or finishing as quickly as possible. And then he remembered Starscream was leaving for three weeks the next day and thrust so hard into Overlord's mouth that he knew he had bruised his lips.

     And Overlord took it, his body still and his optics pleading for more. It was the same look Starscream got when he screamed for Megatron to frag him like he meant it. That thought was all Megatron needed and, after a final deep thrust, he pulled his spike from the blue mech's mouth and overloaded with a shout. Thick, silvery transfluid spurted across Overlord's face entirely missing his open and eager mouth.

     Overlord waited, still kneeling, completely disgraced and trembling violently, while Megatron vented hard and steadied himself. Recalibrating his optics, the tyrant looked down at his officer and scowled, though in his mind, he felt like laughing like Skywarp after a good prank.

     The warlord took his spike in hand and leaned closer to press the tip of it in his own transfluid, smearing the quickly cooling liquid across Overlord's face. The triple-changer's frame relaxed slightly as his humiliation reached new depths, his optics shining with gratitude and shame.

     Finishing with his task, Megatron pushed his spike against Overlord's bruised lips.

      “Clean me,” he ordered and didn't bother controlling his reaction as his officer began laving his spike with his glossa. Megatron shivered with heightened sensitivity and soon the sensations became almost painful.

      “Enough. Stand up,” he commanded, stepping back to give his officer room to move. Keeping his scowl on his face, the tyrant continued. “You're a disgrace but you have obeyed well tonight. Show me your spike.”

     A blue panel snapped back immediately and Overlord's spike nearly leapt from it's housing. It was impressive, but Megatron frowned at it anyway. “Look at this little thing,” he said disgustedly, slapping it a few times. Each touch made the Warrior Elite lurch slightly.

     Grasping the spike lazily, Megatron stroked it a few times. “You will overload when I allow you to, soldier.” Said soldier nodded eagerly, but otherwise remained unmoving. “And you will shout my designation when you do.”

     As a litany of insults rumbled from his vocalizer, Megatron quickly brought Overlord to the brink of overload. Again, he considered drawing it out just to torture the pathetic mech, but he was getting tired after his own overload and was ready to retire for the night.

      “You're disgusting. I can't look at you any longer. Overload now,” the tyrant rasped, speeding his strokes up slightly. Relief flooded his officer's optics and then they dimmed as the first wave of burning pleasure crashed through his frame. Overlord gasped as his frame convulsed and he struggled to stay standing.

     Impatient to finish, the Decepticon leader tugged hard on his officer's spike and Overlord tipped fully into overload, his normally controlled bass voice wild and staticky as shouted the designation of the only mech who could ever give him what he truly wanted the way he wanted it.

     Megatron skillfully avoided the splash of Overlord's transfluid and side-stepped as the spent mech stumbled against his desk and leaned heavily on one shaking arm.

     Already pulling a cleaning mesh from subspace to wipe the remaining stickiness from his frame and hands, Megatron pointed to the silvery splatters on his floor with his free hand.

      “Clean this up and clean yourself and get out. My washrack is to the right. You are dismissed.” He turned quickly to keep his triumphant smile hidden from the now-scurrying mech.

     He couldn't wait to tell Starscream. Actually, he could and would, but Starscream generally hated every mech save for his trine-mates – which was a questionable statement – and would enjoy hearing that a haughty mech like Overlord was nothing but a groveling slave in his spark.

     The tyrant heard solvent running in the washracks and looked back briefly to inspect his floor. It was spotless. He nodded in approval. At his desk, he sent the command to dim his lights to the level he preferred for recharge, then went to his berth to lie down.

     As his processor began to slow, he distantly heard the sound of the dryer in his washracks and chuckled evilly to himself. He idly wondered if Overlord would be interested in further “punishment” sessions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrynotsorry! :D
> 
> Currently unbeta'd so please excuse any errors you may find.
> 
> This is basically an exercise in perversion aimed at my favorite sadist. Turnabout is fair play! And I have always loved the twisted senpai thing Overlord had for Megatron in LSOTW. He would have cried if he hadn't been on fire. Ha ha! Love ya, Lordy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: explicit sticky, and Overlord 'cause Overlord.
> 
> Skip the coffee and read this. It'll wake you up for sure!

Upon his return from his latest campaign, and after filing his preliminary post-mission report with Soundwave, Starscream made his way to Megatron's private quarters

There, the senior-most commanders of the Decepticon army sat relaxing and sipping high-grade, sharing stories from the weeks they'd been apart. After Starscream had finished regaling his mate with his favorite moments from the final raid that had forced the Autobot outpost's capitulation, they sat in companionable silence, frames still and minds idle.

“I have a good story for you, Starscream,” Megatron began after a few minutes. The Seeker's optics glowed over the rim of his cube as he took another sip. “It involves a certain triple-changing Warrior Elite.”

“I'm not interested in hearing about that uppity mutant unless its regarding his deactivation,” Starscream rasped, finishing off his cube.

“Its much better than that, I assure you.” The seeker arched a brow so the warlord continued. “He enjoys being humiliated and used like a pleasure drone.”

His Second-in-Command barked a short, sharp laugh. “And how do you know this? Did your pet freak spy on his thoughts or record him in the act?”

“Both,” Megatron confirmed, showing his gleaming denta in a terrible smile.

“ _ And? _ Details,” the seeker needled, leaning forward in his seat.

“ _ And _ he's a filthy, groveling glitch.” The Air Commander's optics brightened with malice. “ _ And _ he submits only to me.”

The jet sputtered, his normally handsome face contorting with hurt and anger and a nearly equal amount of jealousy. Megatron merely smiled.

“You,” his Second-in-Command shouted, rising to jab a finger at his leader. “I just spent three weeks annihilating Autobot filth for you on a Primus-forsaken rock on the other side of the galactic cluster while you fragged that monstrosity senseless?”

The smirking warlord didn't even rise from his seat to defend himself from the furious jet, but simply caught both blue fists aimed at his head in his own. Exerting considerable strength, he forced Starscream to the floor, the Seeker howling with rage while trying desperately to wrench his hands from Megatron's grip.

“Shut up,” Megatron growled, amusement tinting the harsh sound. “I didn't frag him senseless. You and I are not a bonded pair. And I can do as I please with willing subordinates.”

Starscream wailed and renewed his struggles to no avail. From his position at Megatron's feet, he had no leverage with which to free himself or launch a fresh attack. Finally, he slumped and said with as much misery as he could muster: “You just enjoy torturing me, you scrap heap.”

“No, I enjoy torturing  _ him _ . I thought you would be pleased to see that arrogant glitch brought so low,” the silver mech said calmly.

“Not like that,” the jet groused.

“His depravity is quite amusing,” Megatron said, a low rumble in his chassis. “I do things to him that you do not tolerate.” The jet slumped even further, his wings sagging. “But its you that I think of when I overload.”

Glaring up at the tyrant with deep red optics narrowed and glowing spitefully, the Seeker's wings straightened along with his frame. “Summon him. Summon that sorry freak.”

“I do not believe that attempting an assault on a Warrior–”

“No violence, Megatron. But I will show him what it means to be the mate of the Decepticon Supreme Commander and how he could never hope to compare.” The words were vocalized with icy viciousness, and the jet wore his trademark smirk. Megatron returned that look with a leer and opened a comm channel.

::Lord Megatron::

::Ten minutes:: The channel closed and the silver mech released Starscream's hands. “You have two minutes until that glitch arrives.”

His Second-in-Command laughed as he rose smoothly from the floor, catching Megatron's hand in his own. “Then we should be ready.” He pulled his mate towards the berthroom and motioned for him to sit.

Squatting before the warlord, Starscream nudged his thighs apart and tapped on his spike housing. Looking terribly amused, Megatron released his spike and nearly shouted when the jet immediately began servicing it with his mouth. He heard the sound of a valve cover sliding aside  and Starscream's hand slipped between his own thighs.

::Enjoy this, rust bucket. Try to follow my lead::

::Starscream....::

The reply was Starscream taking his spike to the hilt, and Megatron threw back his head with a loud groan.

The door chimed shortly thereafter and the warlord sent the command to open it. They heard heavy footsteps quickly enter the room.

::Call him in here::

Keeping his voice even, Megatron called, “My berthroom, soldier.” He heard the jet snickering over their private comm channel as more eager footsteps approached and Overlord's impressive frame filled the doorway. His steps stopped abruptly.

::Don't look at him. Make him wait::

So Megatron simply sat back and enjoyed his Second-in-Command's ministrations.

::Now, acknowledge him::

“Overlord,” the silver mech said lazily, optics dim. “You know Air Commander Starscream.”

::Watch this::

The jet straightened his legs slowly, exposing the open valve he was continuing to finger and pulled his mouth from Megatron's spike with an absurdly exaggerated slurp. The warlord bit his glossa to keep from laughing.

Keeping his head low and back straight, the seeker looked around his shoulder vent at the newcomer to regard him with nearly palpable distaste. “Overlord.” The tall blue mech's optics narrowed as waves of shock, confusion, and shame slid across his face.

C ontinuing to work his valve, the Air Commander spoke again. “Our  Lord Megatron informs me that he has been using you while I was away, but that he didn't enjoy it much. What have you been offering to our leader that he hasn't been properly satisfied?”

Megatron was attempting to decipher the emotions blazing from the triple-changer's optics when Starscream dropped a hint via their comm channel.

::He needs to know he answers to me as well::

“Tell our  Air Commander how you have been failing me, soldier.”

“Lord Megatron uses my mouth to pleasure himself, Commander Starscream,” the blue mech said, picking up his leader's cue.

“And you do not bring him to overload,” Starscream asked.

“He withdraws and overloads on my face.”

A high-pitched cackle on the comm channel almost caused the tyrant to wince.

“And he does not use your valve?”

“He has only used my mouth,” the officer admitted, suddenly seeming to shrink in his thick armor.

“Of course,” the seeker said haughtily. “If your mouth can't, your valve would hold no interest to our  Lord . Only I am worthy enough to give him pleasure in such a manner.”

With that, Starscream straightened and turned to face the mech still standing in the doorway, bringing the hand from his valve to his lips. Locking optics with the tall blue officer, he slowly licked his fingers clean.

“Just the thought of our  Lord's spike in my valve makes it wet. He hits every single sensor node I have. But I suppose a lesson is in order.” The seeker sighed as he positioned himself over Megatron's waiting spike.

::Starscream....::

::You have this coming, you aft. This is a lesson for you, too::

The jet slid himself down the tyrant's spike easily, his slick valve stretching to accommodate it's thickness. Sensory impulses crackled through Starscream's frame as the rim of his valve came to rest against his leader's housing. He smiled cruelly, a purr escaping his vocalizer.

“On your knees, you waste of protoform. Here. Close up, so that you may see what you will never earn,” the Air Commander ordered, the smile leaving his face. He pointed to the floor a few meters in front of the berth, and t he Warrior Elite obeyed immediately, moving and dropping down almost as gracefully as a Seeker.

 

Setting a fast pace, Starscream rode his leader's spike, drawing loud groans from the silver mech's vocalizer. Three sets of cooling fans clicked on, filling the room with whirring sounds.

Silent and still, Overlord's optics roved restlessly between Starscream's face and the sliding, slippery junction between his superior officers. Then, as if on cue, the panting jet leaned forward revealing Megatron's helm just over his wings. Overlord's attention snapped to the silver face, his optics imploring.

“This over-developed drone doesn't seem to grasp that he will never earn the chance to pleasure you with his valve, Lord Megatron,” Starscream hissed. “He's pathetic.”

Dark red optics glared down over the Air Commander's wings. “Barely worth the effort to use his mouth and he knows it.” Both commanders laughed aloud as the officer on the floor squirmed under their gazes.

Slowing to a grind, Starscream motioned for the kneeling mech to move closer. Overlord shifted forward without hesitation and when he was within reach, the Seeker snatched at an antenna on his helm and wrenched him even closer. Starscream sneered, releasing his spike, and the mech at his thrusters trembled at the sight.

“You may be of some use today after all,” the jet said casually. “Take it.”

Overlord let his jaw drop and the hand still gripping his kibble maneuvered his mouth over the spike and roughly forced it down. Choking back a groan, he relaxed his lips and intake, allowing his Air Commander to fill his mouth easily.

Adjusting slightly, Starscream rocked himself firmly between Megatron's spike and Overlord's mouth, his dark face tense with concentration.

::Take over, old bot::

::You're not going to overload?::

::Not yet::

::You truly are a spawn of the Unmaker::

::Just don't touch my wings::

Heavy black hands gripped the seeker's hips and Megatron thrust forcefully into Starscream, seeking his own overload, the rough movement pushing the jet's spike further into the Warrior Elite's mouth. The act of being used in such a way left the triple-changer unable to hold back the desperate moan that escaped his vocalizer, his thighs shaking as he knelt.

Soon, Megatron's rhythm faltered and his uneven thrusts shoved Starscream further into Overlord. At last, he crushed the jet's aft to his hips and overloaded with grunt, and the Air Commander shuddered as he fought his own overload. He then shoved the kneeling officer away.

“On your back, fragger,” he snapped, lifting himself off Megatron and pressing a hand against his valve. When Overlord had complied, the jet stepped gingerly to him and with a thruster on either side of the prone mech's head, squatted over him, removing the hand covering his valve.

Overlord's frame thrummed with pent-up energy and desire. He watched his Lord's transfluid collect at the rim of his Air Commander's valve and extended his glossa to catch it. A sharp slap to his head stopped him. “Not yet!”

When the first hot drops of mingled fluid fell on his lips, the blue officer's frame convulsed as if his spark was guttering, lust and greed burning him from the inside. A thin trickle of fluid soon followed and his face glistened as the pinkish-silvery liquid slid down his lips, chin and cheeks. Sharp, tangy scents filled his olfactory receptors and he reveled in the fact that he was allowed even this small reward.

::Starscream, you've outdone yourself. This is absolutely filthy. I want a second round::

::I'm not done yet. I need my satisfaction, too::

::You're sick::

::Only for you, mighty Megatron::

::He looks like he's about to combust::

::Maybe. Maybe he needs more::

Starscream vented a disgusted huff. “You're a mess.” He swiped his hand across Overlord's brow, smearing fluid across the blue plating. The jet then lowered himself further onto the prostrate mech's face and began rubbing his valve against the sticky lips. “Use your glossa, damn you.”

The officer kept his clenching fists to his side, resisting the urge to pull the grinding red hips tight against his mouth. Instead, he did as he was ordered and slid his glossa around and into Starscream's valve, savoring the taste of their fluids as if it was the finest high-grade.

Panting and groaning, his wings trembling as if to shatter, Starscream rested his hands against the floor and strained to force Overlord's glossa deeper into his valve. He didn't think it would be this good but the mech was talented and his ridiculous lips added to the sensations. He glanced up at Megatron and was startled to see his mate roughly fisting his spike, blazing optics focused on the scene on the floor.

Mouth curving into an open smile around his vocalizations, Starscream locked optics with his commander.

::Like what you see?::

::Starscream....:: The transmission was barely more than a growl.

The jet shuddered. The possessiveness and raw desire in that one sound pushed him closer to overload than any of the triple-changer's soft wet strokes. He wanted that spike down his intake but he was reaching the limits of control.

::More later::

This time, Megatron's dark growl filled the room instead of the comm channel. Both mechs on the floor reacted similarly, frames going momentarily rigid as the harsh sound sent shivers through them. Starscream heaved himself off the floor and shakily got to his thrusters. “Hands and knees,” he snarled, stroking himself firmly.

Overlord struggled to obey, his frame sluggish under the weight of his pleasure and shame.

“Quickly,” the jet barked harshly, pulling him into place by his shoulder armor. “All of it.”

The blue officer hungrily obeyed, forcing his lips all the way down to his Air Commander's plating. He could feel fluid cooling on his face, but Overlord held that position, waiting for his next order, optics on Starscream's stern face, humiliation naked on his own. His spark pulsed hard enough to make him feel dizzy, but he held fast.

Starscream began moving in Overlord's mouth, slowly at first and then more roughly as he quickly approached overload. Gasping as the charge built beyond his capacity, the jet pulled his spike from the wet lips which remained parted in anticipation and released his transfluid onto the floor with a stifled cry.

“You don't even deserve that, drone,” Starscream panted as Overlord's lips closed and pressed down into a look of tragic disappointment. “But you may clean it up.”

Megaton's vents stuttered and his Second-in-Command threw him a wicked look. Overlord pressed himself to the floor with a soft sigh and, with a quick shift of his weight, Starscream lifted a thruster and brought it down on his head, shoving him the last few centimeters into the spill of fluid on the floor.

A strangled groan escaped from Overlord's vocalizer and the Air Commander jiggled his thruster a bit, grinding his face further into the sticky mess. The silver mech on the berth growled again and his mate held up a hand.

“Turn your face to look at our Lord,” he commanded. He eased up on the pressure from his thruster and the mech on the floor turned his head to obey, his side of his helm coming to rest flat on the floor. “Now, open your panel.”

A quiet  _ snick _ was barely heard over the cooling fans still working overtime. Stretching gracefully, Starscream slipped a hand between the blue mech's thighs and rested his hand lightly over the wet valve there. The tension thrumming through Overlord's frame was almost audible.

“Since this is for our Lord's pleasure, you may request his permission to overload.”

“My Lord Megatron,” the triple-changer panted, vents hitching and cooling fans straining. “May I overload?”

The red optics brightened and that ugly voice spoke, sharp and malicious. “You don't seem very grateful for this opportunity, soldier. Your Air Commander is quite talented with his hands.”

The mech on the floor's vocalizer spit static and he audibly reset it. “My Lord, may I please be allowed an overload at the hands of my Air Commander?” Starscream glanced up at his mate, a slight nod expressing his approval. Overlord's voice had been as smooth and controlled as if he were delivering a post-mission report. Megatron returned the nod.

“That was  _ acceptable _ . Proceed, Air Commander.”

“Make this worth the stain on my plating, freak,” the jet hissed, beginning to slowly trace around the moist valve beneath his fingers. “Whatever pride you may have left in your miserable green spark, scream it out.”

Teasing staticky moans out of the mech pinned to the floor, Starscream snarled.

“Louder.” An increase in volume of the desperate sounds followed. Rough penetration by a finger followed that. “Beg for more, you scrap heap.”

“Please, Air Commander!”

“Please what?”

“Please use me!”

“How do you want it?”

“Harder, please!”

“Do you deserve it harder?”

“Only if you decide so, Air Commander!”

Starscream's lips twisted into his trademark smirk as two fingers began thrusting viciously into Overlord's clenching valve. Watching from the berth, Megatron's engines issued a steady rumble, his optics flickering at the cruelty of his Second-in-Command, lust painfully consuming his spark.

::Save yourself, Megatron. I want that all the way down my intake::

The Decepticon leader's vents hitched and Starscream laughed.

The triple-changer's frame broke into wracking shudders. His optics held fast to Megatron's hand sliding over his spike and his vocalizer strained under the increasing volume of his shouts, desperation and humiliation devouring him.

The jet continued to laugh. “I'm going to purge my tanks! You're revolting if you enjoy this! Why did you infuse this sick fragger with ununtrium again?” His screechy laugh sounded like grating metal and Overlord bit his lower lip as overload threatened to break over him. He hadn't been given permission yet.

The fingers inside him raked harshly over a now hypersensitive node and the Warrior Elite shouted as the strain of his frame became unbearable. The fingers repeated the movement at the same punishing rhythm and the shouts became a refrain of “Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!”

“Finish him off, Starscream. I'm getting bored here and his noise is annoying my audials,” Megatron said dismissively, the attentive position of his frame and the steady pumping of his spike belying the tone of his voice.

“You, too? I agree. This is not the show I had hoped for. Hurry up.”

Overlord's heavy frame seem to curl up on itself, his hands scratching into the metal of the floor his helm was still pinned to, sobs wracking his body in time to the convulsions that finally came as he overloaded.

“Commanders,” he gasped between sobs. “Commanders, thank you.” In one smooth motion, his Air Commander removed both his fingers from his valve and his thruster from his helm. The triple-changer slumped thoroughly spent, his frame trembling, his vents heaving and his filthy face peaceful as he whispered his sated chant of gratitude.

Starscream licked his fingers and smiled. He stepped over the blissed-out mech at his thrusters and sank to his knees at the edge of the berth. Brushing Megatron's hand away, he slid his mouth over the spike before him, his optics flickering in delight. A purr hummed around the spike and Megatron caressed the bobbing black helm.

::Don't forget our new toy, mighty Megatron::

Megatron bit back a laugh. “Get up, soldier. Clean up the mess you caused and get out. Utter disappointment.”

The triple-changerpushed himself up unsteadily and began to lap at the gelled fluid on the floor.

::He is so disgusting::

::But fragging hot. I know. Too much fun, old bot::

::I might actually admire you now, Starscream::

The jet snorted which came out worse considering his current position.

::Shut up and overload down my intake, you sireless aft::

Megatron offlined his optics and let his helm fall back, concentrating on the warm slickness moving around his aching spike. He heard the disgraced officer stand and listened to his heavy steps leave the room. He still had some tricks up his plating and began moaning loudly. The steps slowed but continued toward the door.

When they stopped before the door, he hurriedly sent an override code to keep it shut. And then he let go of all the charge and tension that had built in his frame.

“Starscream! Frag!” He didn't exaggerate the roar that left his vocalizer as he overloaded for the second time that night; watching Starscream brutally dominate a Warrior Elite had really revved his engines.

As he and his mate began to laugh breathlessly, he allowed the door to his quarters to finally open and listened to those steps rush through the exit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screamer sure got his revenge on that 'uppity mutant' for thinking he could move in on his mech behind his wings, Overlord got his punishment with his senpai watching it all, Megatron discovered a new kink of his: dom!Scream, and we got to read it. Yay! Everybody wins!
> 
> I welcome enablers, i mean _encouragement_ in the form of comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: third verse, same as the first; a little bit louder, a little bit worse.

The weeks passed with Megatron and Starscream devising new ways to humiliate their toy in between their various missions.  Starscream revealed himself to be quite creative when it came to formulating new lows which to render the Warrior Elite.

Megatron found himself idly wondering if he should feel more or less threatened now that Starscream seemed to spend so much time and focus on creating these scenes for Overlord. Their working relationship, surprisingly, had grown much smoother since they began their sessions with the triple-changer. His thoughts were interrupted when the Seeker strode into his private quarters, a grin fiendish enough frighten lesser mechs stretching his lips.

He fixed the jet with a pointed look. “You failed to request entry again.”

Starscream pursed his lips. “I live here, too, Megatron.” His wings flicking in annoyance, he retrieved a box from his sub-space. “New idea,” he proudly announced as he set the box on Megatron's desk, his manic grin returning.

The tyrant leaned forward to look into the box which was filled with an assortment of false spikes. He gave his mate a look.

“Skywarp.”

And then the warlord leaned back uneasily. He gestured to the box. “What do you intend to do with your trine-mate's collection of...novelties?”

“Your odd squeamishness about these  _ novelties _ belies your interest, mighty Megatron,” the jet said flatly. “They are not for you, but you can ask to borrow one if you like.” He picked up a rather large spike and waved it mockingly at his mate.

A warning rumble of engines filled the room accompanied by a scowl.

“Suit yourself. These are for Big Toy.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

“All?”

“Yes. You'll see. Soundwave reported that he would be returning in the next hour. I directed him to send that glitch here for an  _ immediate debriefing _ . No refueling, no recharging allowed.”

Megatron could feel his lips stretching in an eerily similar reflection of his mate's as he considered the possibilities.

*****

Soundwave's estimate proved to be accurate, as usual. A ping from him notified them of Overlord's arrival at High Command and the two mechs quickly took their places, knowing their pet would be eager for their attention.

They stifled their laughter when Overlord pinged Megatron's door, and quickly arranged their faces into grim expressions before the door opened.

Their pet stepped into the room, blue plating still sporting scorch marks from laser fire. The stench of death and over-heated metal left untreated surrounded him.

Starscream wrinkled his nose as he opened his comm channel to his mate. ::I love when you smell like that. This is going to be a tough one::

::Calm yourself, Starscream:: He threw a stern glance at the Seeker, and then refocused his attention on the officer standing before his desk.

“You dare present yourself to me in such a state when I have already dedicated my time to a private debriefing for you?”

Overlord was silent, his deep-set optics locked onto his Lord's face, frame going rigid as the Air Commander stalked around from Megatron's desk to circle behind him.

A snort from directly behind him almost made the Warrior Elite jump. “Is this a  _ finger _ in your tread? What a disgrace. Its an insult to Lord Megatron to look this filthy in his own quarters.”

“And doubly insulting considering the time and expense I have invested in creating a superior soldier,” the tyrant added.

“Indeed. He has about as much discipline as an ordinary grunt. A  _ finger _ . And that smell,” Starscream scoffed, but his optics visible over Overlord's shoulder armor were bright with glee.

“Over the desk, now.” A rough push forward urged the blue mech into action. As he positioned his hands to take his weight to lean over the desk, Megatron swept a black hand out, catching a thick wrist and pulling the soldier further off balance.

Another shove from the Seeker behind him had Overlord's hips and chest crashing against the desk, his face remaining upturned toward his silver master.

“Spread them,” the jet barked, kicking at the feet of his pet, who obliged immediately, despite his awkward positioning. “Aft up!”

The blue mech pushed himself onto the tips of his feet, thighs spread to reveal his valve cover. Megatron arranged his pet's hands to grip the edge of his desk, and then sat back to watch his mate go to work, optics focused razor-sharp.

Giving the silver mech a smirk, Starscream slapped at the valve cover offered up to him. It retracted with a snap, and he hissed.

“Already leaking. I suppose this will make your lesson easier to take. Let us hope you take it better than you do orders.” He traced a finger around the rim of Overlord's valve, and big mech shuddered. “Where would you like me to begin, Lord Megatron?”

“The red one, Air Commander.”

“Good choice,” the jet commented, pulling the red false spike from the box on the desk. It was a thick, smooth cylinder of metal with a blunted tip. “We can progress to more difficult lessons later.”

Drawing the toy across his pet's cheek, then nudging the tip against his plush lips, Starscream barked his  next command: “Prepare it, though your valve is sloppy enough to begin without it.”

Overlord opened his mouth to accept the tip of the spike and his glossa slid across it, smearing lubricant across the red metal, his optics never leaving his leader's face as he suckled the toy in his mouth.

Without warning, Starscream pulled the spike away and stepped behind the blue mech. He rapped the spike against his pet's valve twice, pulling a surprised grunt from the mech, before pressing the tip to his valve's opening.

“Do not move, and do not overload without permission. Your first lesson in discipline today,” the jet snarled. With a steady pressure, he slowly pushed the red spike into Overlord's valve until it was seated completely inside. The blue mech's vocalizer hitched at the stretch, but his frame did nothing more than tremble.

A hard flick on the protruding end of the spike drew a groan from Overlord and his hands tightened on the edge of the desk. Gripping that same end, the Air Commander pumped roughly into his pet's valve until trembling  became  shuddering.

A sharp slap to blue plating cut off a whine of frustration from Overlord's vocalizer, and Starscream withdrew the toy.

“An easy lesson,” he rasped. He raised his optics to his mate's in question.

“The blue one.” This spike was thicker than the previous with raised ridges in regular intervals along it's length. This spike, Starscream decided, would be better prepared differently, and with a terrible smile at the silver mech seated before him, he forced it down Overlord's intake as far as it would fit. The big mech's fans spun straight into full speed and his optics dimmed in mingled shame and bliss as lubricant leaked out from around the spike held in his mouth.

“Starscream...,” the warlord growled, and his Seeker's wings fluttered excitedly. “You are an  _ excellent _ teacher.” His spike housing opened and his spike extended. He palmed it slowly, his optics intent on his mate's wings.

The jet's vocals were rough and low when he spoke: “I have more lessons to give, my Lord.” 

The blue toy was removed from Overlord's drooling mouth and promptly forced into his valve. He bit his lips to stifle a cry, and Starscream took the bait, working the spike in and out until the mech shouted wordlessly, lifting his hips higher to adjust the angle of the toy's movements.

Starscream pulled the spike out with a wet sound, and smeared it on Overlord's raised aft. “Another lesson is required, it seems. The orange one?” He selected an even larger orange spike from the box, and held it up for Megatron's approval.

The silver tyrant's vents coughed as his optics took in the spike; thicker still than the others, it was patterned with nodes arranged in swirls and curves. “Proceed.” His voice was edged in static, and his fans strained to cool his heavy frame as he stroked his spike more intently.

“For the Decepticon cause.” His mate licked along a whorl of nodes before dragging the spike across his pet's aft, letting him feel, but not see his next lesson. The frame spread over Megatron's desk vibrated with anticipation and need.

When Starscream began sliding the spike into his valve, twisting it and turning with a nearly painful friction, Overlord bucked and tried to force himself further down onto the orange toy.

The Air Commander yanked the spike from his pet's valve, and the mech shouted again.

“Do. Not. Move,” the jet barked, emphasizing each sharp word with slap of the spike against the blue mech's thighs. Overlord immediately quieted and settled, an embarrassed, apologetic whine issuing from his vocalizer.

“Again. Take it.” This time, Starscream twisted the spike even more slowly, wriggling it to further excite already over-sensitized sensors in Overlord's valve. The whine increased in volume and depth until it was a rumble of desperation that rattled the Warrior Elite's frame and the desk he clung to like a dying mech. But the mech did not move.

“Wanton drone,” the Seeker muttered. His own fans and vents were harsh, and he greedily drank in the sight of his mate working his spike vigorously. “Final lesson. I've wasted too much time on this today.”

With a wrenching twist that drew another frustrated shout from Overlord, he pulled the spike free and presented it to his pet, carelessly bumping it against his nose and cheek. “Suck your filth off this during your next lesson, glitch.” When the blue mech obediently extended his glossa to lap at the orange toy, the Air Commander gripped his chin and pulled it down, pushing the spike in until stressed joints hissed.

Overlord's optics flickered and the spike began bobbing as he sucked forcefully on it.

“So disgusting,” the jet sneered. Then he turned to face his watching leader, and he smiled viciously before selecting the final spike for their session.

Impossibly thick, the last spike in Starscream's series of lessons was a cold, gleaming black. It was smooth and unadorned, but when the jet pushed a hidden button at it's base, it thrummed to life, a row of soft lavender lights winking along it's length.

Megatron's vents and fans sputtered and coughed and wheezed. And he could not stop the look of shock that froze his face. Starscream hefted the spike up, his own face softening in admiration of the toy in his hand.

“This,” he said, his voice a purr, “is the hardest lesson of all.” He disengaged the vibrating mechanism and the toy stilled. Running a blue finger along the strip of lights, his optics flicked to his mate. “Only I have mastered it.” Megatron's fans roared, drowning out the wet sounds of sucking coming from their pet, and the ragged venting coming from all three mechs.

Keeping his optics focused on Megatron, Starscream carefully and thoroughly wet the end of the toy with his glossa, making sure that his mate could see every stroke and curl of it against the shiny black metal.

Megatron himself appeared about to combust. His hand had stilled in his lap and he stared at his jet in amazement. He knew it was no coincidence that this toy closely resembled his fusion cannon, which Starscream had gifted him at the beginning of the war. His optics flickered involuntarily as he considered his mate's perversity.

Somehow, the tyrant was able to address the Air Commander clearly: “That is an impressive claim, Starscream. Perhaps a demonstration is in order.”

The jet's optics narrowed as his fans strained ever faster. “Perhaps if this drone,” he pinched the rim of Overlord's valve, causing the blue mech to sputter around the spike in his mouth, “fails at his final lesson.” His optics glittered mercilessly.

Aligning the toy with his pet's waiting valve, Starscream applied pressure to it. As the very tip began to slip inside, his own spike extended. With one hand, he continued to push the spike further in, stroking his own with the other, his optics focused on the valve before him slowly stretching to accommodate it's thickness.

When the blue mech spread his thighs wider, the jet only sighed. At last, the black spike was fully seated in his pet, and Starscream held his palm against it to steady it as Overlord's valve continued to adjust.

The Air Commander could not take his optics of his pet's valve. It's rim was stretched thin around the toy, and Overlord's interface panel and thighs were stained pink with lubricant. Phantom sensations spun through Starscream's frame as he remembered the many times he had use the same toy.

Without a word, he engaged the vibration mechanism. Overlord's frame lurched violently on top of the desk, his fingers splayed as he released his grip on the edge and clawed at nothing.

“Hold him down.” Starscream motioned to Megatron who still seemed frozen in his seat. “He will have plenty of time to learn or fail as the case may be.”

Megatron startled into motion, reaching out to grab his pet's flailing hands and crushed them back to the desktop. The Warrior Elite stilled at the touch, but instead began trying to talk around the orange spike in his mouth.

“Spit it out.”

Overlord's aching jaw began to work and the toy fell out. Unfortunately, his vocals were completely consumed by static and no words were discernible in the noise.

“Shut up, or I'll find something else to shut you up with.” The blue mech's mouth snapped close, and he offlined his optics.

Starscream's attention returned to the vibrating toy, and he pulled his hand away, which caused the spike to slide out slowly. The tense frame before him slumped slightly at the lack of stretch, and the jet palmed the toy back in.

Overlord lost his balance then, and fell back from his pede-tips, straining against his Lord's grip. More bursts of static spilled from his lips, and the Seeker laughed.

“You're not anywhere near done, freak.” He continued his slow pace of palming the slippery spike back into his pet's valve, thoroughly enjoying the obscene view, rim stretched to it's limits and steadily leaking lubricant.

The jet hadn't forgotten about his own spike, which he had continued to pump as he worked. The scent of lubricant and the smell of battle that rose from Overlord's frame kicked his desire up several levels.

He looked to Megatron who was occupied with restraining the nearly thrashing mech between them. And the Air Commander remembered his mate's words on their first night with Overlord:  _ I do things to him that you do not tolerate. _

There was one act which Megatron was absolutely loath to participate in and that was being spiked. And it was something Starscream had wanted since they had become lovers. It was obvious to every mech that power was one of Starscream's kinks, and nothing brought him to his knees faster than the thought of Megatron overloading around his spike.

Even now, he felt spark pulse painfully in time with the movement of his fist on his own spike. He paused his motions to drag his fingertips through the copious amounts of lubricant staining Overlord's plating and smeared it over his stiff length.

Disengaging the vibration mechanism, Starscream stepped closer to his pet's aft, a predatory smile on his lips.

“What are you doing?” Megatron's voice cut through the sound of fans and vents and vocalized static.

Fixing his mate with an impudent look, the jet said: “Something that you do not tolerate.” And then he thrust forward, spike sliding easily alongside the toy stuffing his pet's valve.

Starscream's moan of appreciation was lost beneath the crackling shout from Overlord. The triple-changer braced himself against the desk and shoved himself back, aft lifting up again. Lowering his head, he nuzzled against the black hands of his Lord still pinning his arms down, and spread his thighs even wider.

His Air Commander rested a hand over his aft, his thumb holding the black spike in place as he began thrusting. The stretch in his valve was painful, and the entire area throbbed with mingled pleasure and discomfort, but he would do his best to accept the reward of being spiked by his Seeker master.

Overlord would summon all his discipline and do as he had been ordered, and take all that Starscream and Megatron gave him. And he would do his best to bring Starscream to overload inside him.

Unable to clench his valve, the Warrior Elite attempted to relax his frame and let it move with Starscream's thrusts.

The jet behind him growled as the frame he was fragging sagged, and the lack of resistance turned the lust in his circuits into an inferno. One hand still pinning the toy inside Overlord, the Seeker gripped blue hip plating to leverage himself better, and drove into the mech hard.

Offlining his optics, he imagined Megatron spread immobile before him, aft up, face pinned to the desk, valve stuffed with Starscream's favorite toy and spike. The hitching vents and sobbing cries were Megatron's, too.

“I knew you'd love this, you sorry aft,” the jet bit out viciously, hopelessly lost in his fantasy. “I knew you'd give your valve up to me.”

Megatron merely stared at his mate from over Overlord's frame. It was nearly too much for him to process. The mock fusion cannon-cum-frag toy, Starscream's taunting words, and these ground-out mutterings that sounded suspiciously triumphant.

The warlord's new uncertainty about his Seeker's desires still didn't compare to how incredibly turned on he was watching Starscream pound his now-docile Warrior Elite, nor was his lust dampened as the dark face before him pinched in concentration.

“You love taking my spike, don't you?” The jet's voice was drenched in salacious glee, his optics still offline. As Overlord opened his mouth to reply, not aware that the Seeker was not addressing him, Megatron quickly snatched up one of the spikes from a previous lesson and shoved it down the mech's intake.

An aborted cough from his pet morphed into a strangled groan as his optics onlined and found Megatron's face. They pleaded for release as low fuel warnings filled his visual feed; he could not go into stasis during a lesson.

Still thrusters-deep in his imagined scenario, Starscream thumbed the button at the base of the spike, and both he and Overlord shouted as the toy began vibrating again.

“That's it, that's it,” the jet shouted. “Overload! Overload now!” And his pet complied, nearly at the end of his quickly tattering discipline and fuel reserves. Throaty gasps that shook his frame and rattled his vents tore from his vocalizer as the charge snapped through his system, tiny sparks arcing between the gaps in his plating. A distorted whine sounded when his systems flickered briefly.

Megaton looked up as Starscream laughed, pulling out of their pet, spike still stiff, vents heaving. A quick twist of his hand had Overlord gasping and scrabbling at the desktop again. The magnetic pull of the spike's base surprised him, and before he could fully comprehend that Starscream hadn't overloaded inside him, his charge was rising again.

“Not tonight, you utter failure,” the Air Commander rasped. “Come to berth, Megatron. Leave him here to think about how he has disappointed us.” The jet strutted off into the other room as Overlord overloaded again, his strained systems whining even louder.

The silver mech pushed himself up without another glance at their pet, despite a third overload wracking his frame, the whine breaking up into a series of depleted beeps.

His mate was already lounging in their berth, lazily working his spike. “The toy will power down soon, but Big Toy will already be in stasis by then.”

“Starscream....” It was a growl.

“Shut up and frag me through this berth,” the jet teased, rolling onto his front and rising up onto his knees. Megatron didn't hesitate to slide behind his Seeker and push his aching spike inside the welcoming heat.

“Starscream....” It was a sigh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My condolences to the families of the spontaneously combusted. Know that they died bravely. I will continue to write this smutty trash so that all was not in vain.


End file.
